


Creatures of London

by gwdihw



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Thommy - Freeform, Vampire AU, warning: blood and murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-26 06:48:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2642114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwdihw/pseuds/gwdihw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Supernatural / Horror AU. Jimmy is still working for Lady Anstruther when a chance meeting with a mysterious man called Thomas causes him to be hunted by an unknown monster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

Not quite knowing why, Jimmy glanced over his shoulder every two seconds as he was walking home. He should have felt safe – he was in London, for goodness’ sake, a city alive with the bustle of people – yet he felt strangely in danger, as though he were about to be snatched up and dragged into a back alley.

‘Don’t be so daft,’ Jimmy muttered reproachfully to himself. ‘Nowt’ll happen.’ In spite of this, his hand curled around the letter opener in his pocket, useless as it would be in a real fight.

He did not relax properly until he was all the way home, safe in the kitchen of Anstruther House, the family’s London residence. Well, at least he almost relaxed – the hawk-eyed cook raised an eyebrow at his shaking hand as he lifted a cigarette to his lips.

‘What’s the matter with you, then?’ Mrs Kierney asked, putting a cup of cocoa in front of Jimmy as she usually did when he was back at a reasonable hour. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ When Jimmy did not offer up an explanation, she rolled her eyes dramatically and put the last of the kitchen things away. Before disappearing upstairs, she sternly reminded Jimmy that if he did not wash out his cup out after him, she would have his guts for garters.

Had he seen a ghost? The man he was talking to earlier that night had certainly been pale enough, but he had brushed Jimmy gently at one point, a light spirit of fingertips against the hollow of Jimmy’s neck. Ghosts could not do that, surely, they went right through you.

Thomas Barrow. That was how he had introduced himself. Jimmy had been taken aback; he had been expecting something foreign and exotic, maybe something French or Eastern European, but nothing so plain and English as ‘Thomas Barrow’.

Thoughtlessly, Jimmy said: ‘Is that your real name?’

Thomas had laughed – or rather, chuckled, a rolling little sound in his throat. ‘It’s my name for now. That’s all you need to know.’ His accent, too, was at odds with the general air of superiority he exuded: salt-of-the-earth, working-class, northern. It was a nostalgic accent for Jimmy.

‘I’ve not seen you here before,’ Jimmy said. 

‘You’ve been looking?’ Thomas’ tone was unnecessarily flirtatious; yet, instead of infuriating Jimmy, it caused a light flush of heat to creep along the bottom of his stomach.

‘This is my local,’ Jimmy said as though he had not noticed the flirting. ‘Whenever I can get an hour or so off in the evening, this is where I come.’ It’s cheap and it’s around the corner.

‘I’ll have to bear that in mind.’

Now that was flirting, bordering on lascivious. Jimmy cleared his throat loudly, as though that would make a difference.

Even an hour later, drinking hot chocolate at the safety of the scrubbed wooden kitchen table, Jimmy could feel those unbearably direct eyes on him, the low, purring voice like a breeze at the back of his neck. It was far more intoxicating than any of the weak beers he had treated himself to, not wanting the butler to smell alcohol on him the next day. Once had been enough for that little mishap.

Thomas had been intense, but not frightening. It was the other one who had frightened Jimmy, the cold woman.

She swept up behind Thomas’ seat, all bright white aristocrat skin, dark hair and empty black eyes. Although incredibly beautiful, something about her made Jimmy recoil – possibly the impression that she would rip his throat out then and there if she could get away with it.

‘What’s the matter, Mary?’ Thomas asked. He had not looked behind him, but possibly judged from Jimmy’s expression what was there.

‘What ever made you think that something’s wrong, dearest brother?’ she replied, putting a hand on his shoulder – her fingers were long, perfect for wrapping around necks. She smiled frostily at Jimmy.

You’re being simple! She’s just a young girl.

Well, a young lady, at any rate. Her accent was at the opposite end of the social spectrum to her brother’s – heightened Received Pronunciation, it was the type of accent which made you lower your gaze and avoid speaking before being spoken to.

‘You’re frightening him,’ Thomas said, glancing up at Mary. Jimmy’s protest froze in his mouth.

‘Little old me? I wouldn’t hurt a fly,’ Mary said. Barely perceptibly if it were not for the fact that Jimmy was fixated on her, Mary’s fingers dug a little tighter into Thomas’ shoulder.

Looking bored, Thomas sighed and set his cigarette down on the ashtray. ‘I’ll be back.’

As soon as Thomas had walked away with Mary, Jimmy felt as though he were awakening from a dream; the pub was louder, brighter and more tightly packed with people. He shook his head. Had he been under some sort of spell?

He looked across the room. Through a haze of smoke he could make out Thomas and Mary, by far the most beautiful people in the room. Their similarities were startling but there were also a few, very deliberate, differences. There was the accent, of course, but also the way they dressed – his was a dark suit, smart and classic but unremarkable, while she was wearing a fantastic glimmering burgundy organza dress, opals shining at the neck.   
And the eyes. Blue and the darkest of brown, but equally calculating.

Jimmy was absurdly happy to see Thomas walking back to the table. It would have been disturbing had he cared to ponder on it, but it had been such a long time since he had formed any attachment to another human being that he could only relish in the sensation.

The joy did not last.

‘I’m leaving, I’m afraid,’ was all Thomas said, taking his jacket off the back of the chair and sliding it on. ‘You should to. You don’t want to be out late on a night like this – get home while the streets are still busy.’

‘What do you mean by a night like this?’ Jimmy asked.

Thomas smiled briefly. ‘It’s a moonless night. Regardless of what people say, there’s nothing wrong with a full moon – the light will guide you home. The pitch dark on the other hand is where the danger lies.’

It was nonsense, of course, the stuff of fairy tales and nightmares. 

‘Can I come with you?’ Jimmy asked.

‘No.’ It was Mary who had answered, slinking through the crowd like a cat.

Thomas gave Jimmy a slightly rueful look, his eyes trailing along Jimmy’s lips. ‘I know where to look for you.’

There was not much point in staying after that. Feeling both exalted and terribly disappointed, Jimmy finished his drink and left, glancing around hopefully outside in case he caught a glimpse of Thomas and his sister.

It was when he was halfway home that Jimmy became aware of the sensation of being followed. He could hear nothing, see nothing – but all the same his instincts were screaming at him to run. Something had set off the primordial terror of a prey animal knowing it was being hunted.

Jimmy pulled himself together. He was inside, now, safe and warm and with a cup of cocoa in his hands.

Scratching.

Jimmy’s heart sped up and he twisted his head around, trying to locate the noise.

Scratching. Again. Louder.

It was coming from the back door, a scrabbling sound like fingernails on wood.

Walking slowly out into the hall to where the noise, in spite of the thumping of blood in Jimmy’s ears, was perfectly audible, Jimmy stopped and stared at the door as if it were the monsters from his childhood, the thing which lurked under the bed, the shadows outside the window which clawed the air whenever the wind blew.

For a ludicrous second, he considered opening it. Visualised his hand reaching out for the handle and twisting the key.

His instincts got the better of him. He walked briskly away, breaking into a run as he got to the stairs, never looking back.


	2. 2

Eventually, someone always made a mistake.

People wandered down streets they knew they should steer clear of or stumbled into the back garden at three in the morning to empty their bladders. The latter was becoming more infrequent thanks to indoor plumbing, but there was still no end to the ways that human beings could put themselves in danger.

Thomas watched and waited and stalked, a thirst crackling at the back of his throat. It was not a terrible thirst, not yet, but it was enough to heighten his senses. His vision in a brightly-lit room might have been roughly equivalent to that of a human, perhaps a little worse when distinguishing between colours, but at night a single flickering match was enough to light up the world.

After wending a few lazy circles around his territory, Thomas settled himself on the roof of a brothel and bided his time. There were people inside; he could hear high, raucous laughter, moans and grunts, and the sour grumbling of the mistress talking to a maid-of-all-work. He did not think he would have to wait too long before someone left. Inside they were safe; that was the maddening thing. A few times, Thomas had tried to slink in through the window… but apparently the mistress called this den of sin her home, and there was something sacred about that.

Thomas’ unfortunate victim that night was a young man in his mid-twenties wearing a respectable suit and looking vaguely embarrassed, glancing around furtively as he stepped outside in case he saw anyone he knew. He had barely a second to scream when Thomas dropped down next to him.

Like a leopard, Thomas would often drag his prey to a high place to eat in peace.

Almost in peace.

He had barely started drinking when Mary hopped up beside him, resting her chin on his shoulder.

‘Find your own,’ Thomas snapped.

‘As though I would touch your syphilis-riddled leavings,’ she said. ‘I honestly can’t think why you come here.’

‘Because no matter how many people die, they’ll never call the police. They can’t without incriminating themselves.’

The mistress had a vaguely superstitious idea as to what was going on and she had even caught a glimpse of Thomas once or twice, crossing herself immediately. Her hands were tied, however, and, besides, he never went after the girls.

‘Why aren’t you with Daisy?’ Mary asked. ‘It’s your turn.’

Thomas bit back into the neck. It was not bad – the victim had been young and healthy – but the blood was bland and slow-moving, the product of a dull life.

‘Answer me,’ Mary said, her tone changing slightly. When she spoke like that, when she commanded, Thomas had no choice but to listen. To her credit, she rarely resorted to it after so many centuries, but when she did Thomas hated how it bound him, how his bones and his blood yielded to its authority. I made you, remember. I can unmake you.

‘She was restless. She wanted to be alone,’ Thomas said.

‘Of course she wants to be alone,’ Mary said. Left unsaid was the fact that she could not be trusted on her own. Either Mary or Evelyn but mostly Thomas had to look after her. That was reasonable – she was his responsibility. 

‘She won’t be far,’ Thomas said, pushing the body away from him. It rolled off the roof and fell with a heavy thump on to the street. He was no longer thirsty and the young man who had probably experienced the first taste of excitement in his life in the brothel below was not tasty enough to keep drinking for the sake of it.

‘Find her,’ Mary said. Before Thomas stood up, she caressed his shoulders gently, forgivingly. I love you, really.

Daisy was not difficult to find; all Thomas had to do was follow the screams. He cocked his head to the side, pinpointing the sound, then groaned. Not enough that she had been hunting carelessly, but she was outside of their territory, meaning there would be hell to pay.

In a small deserted square, a heavily-built man was screeching, his eyes rolling like a frightened horse, his clothes wet with the blood spurting from his neck. Comically tiny in comparison to the man, Daisy was on his back, clamped onto his neck by her teeth.

Thomas swore earnestly under his breath as he raced towards her. It might have been the early hours of the morning but in London there was always someone about and they always managed to find the police in an inconveniently short amount of time.

There were already rapid footsteps – a few hundred yards away but getting nearer. Before Thomas could put the man out of his misery, he died all by himself, flickering out from blood loss. Daisy, heedless of the commotion she was causing, was still lapping up the rivulets of blood from his neck.

‘Come on, Daisy, we need to leave,’ Thomas said, keeping his voice calm and reasonable. She would have to come with him – but he would rather she did so happily than kicking and screaming.

He had no time to coax; humans were getting closer and, worse, he could feel the vicious itching at the back of his neck which meant he and Daisy were being watched by another vampire.

‘I’ve not finished,’ Daisy said, gnawing on the neck, the head flopping from side to side.

‘You’re not still drinking from that old thing? He must be fifty, at least! Come on, pet, and I’ll find you something young and fresh,’ Thomas said. The wind turned and he caught the smell of danger. He held out his hand for Daisy to take.

He sighed with relief when she took it; clearly, she was in a pliable mood. Nuzzling against his chest with a kittenish purr, she fell asleep in his arms as he carried her back home.

For the past few decades, home had been a middle-class terrace house on the nicer side of London. Neighbours never stayed very long around the area, giving feeble excuses for needing to move. None was willing to admit that there was something frightening about the street and something particularly terrifying about that house right in the middle where the recluses lived.

Mary was already home, sitting on the grand piano while her new companion, Evelyn, played her a waltz. Well, Thomas amended in his head, a fifty-year relationship was still new by their standards.

‘Has she always been this bad?’ Evelyn asked quietly as Thomas put Daisy on the chaise longue.

‘She’s certainly not getting any better,’ Mary said, frowning. ‘Changing is a trauma for a lot of people, but the rest of us managed not to lose our minds.’ Leaving her perch on the piano, she walked over and stroked Daisy’s hair. ‘What are we going to do with you?’

‘Was she… unsteady at all as a human?’ Evelyn asked.

‘No,’ Thomas said. She had been sweet as a human, sweet and naïve and trusting. Nothing about her had suggested that she would be so reckless and brutal as a vampire, thirstier than any of them.

‘Can one of you take her out tomorrow night?’ Thomas asked. He glanced up at Mary and Evelyn, who in the brief pause in conversation had focussed entirely on each other again, Evelyn’s arm around Mary’s shoulder, their lips almost touching.

‘I suppose I will,’ Mary said. She broke eye contact with Evelyn. ‘Any particular reason?’

‘I feel like going for a drink, that’s all,’ Thomas said.

Mary looked amused. ‘He really made an impression on you, didn’t he?’

‘Is this the blond thing you were telling me about?’ Evelyn asked Mary. 

‘I’m allowed to have a distraction,’ Thomas said. Yet he knew his body language was betraying him, that he was actually saying: I’ve been thinking about this for nights.

‘A distraction, yes,’ Mary said. As long as that’s what it remains. She still did not trust him. After the mess he had made with Daisy, he was not sure he trusted himself with changing a human, but the lack of faith still hurt. At least she had not directly forbidden him from doing it – that would have been painful. 

But it was difficult to say exactly why Thomas had been drawn to Jimmy, out of everyone in the public house. He was young and beautiful, yes – but there were plenty of young and beautiful people in the world, and Thomas could recall no other that had preyed on his mind like this. Perhaps it was his colouring that pleased Thomas – he was all golds and pinks and tans, all very warm colours. It seemed that he was filled with summer, bursting at the seams with it. Thomas wondered what his hair would smell like – like cinnamon and figs, surely. Like sunlight.

Daisy murmured and turned over in her sleep. She had never slept restfully, mewling and sometimes crying as dreams took her, a cruel and constant reminder of what Thomas did to good things.


	3. Chapter 3

Jimmy had not been sleeping very well. 

For one thing, he was having the strangest of dreams, dreams in which he was walking down corridors to answer a knock on the door. He would always invite whatever was on the other side in. The other thing was that he awoke frequently and inexplicably in the night, leaving him exhausted the next day.

‘You need to get yourself to bed earlier,’ Mrs Kierney said, waving a soup spoon at him reproachfully.

‘I am getting to bed early,’ Jimmy said. ‘I just can’t sleep well once I’m there.’

Mrs Kierney nodded sympathetically. ‘Worried about the upheaval? We all are, boy.’

‘It isn’t that,’ Jimmy said under his breath. The move to France did not particularly bother him – he would have a place in the new household if he wanted it, Lady Anstruther had dropped enough hints to assure him of that. He was not entirely sure he wanted to go; they had spent a month near Bordeaux the previous summer and Jimmy, wandering outside the comfort of the servants’ hall one day, had found the isolation of not speaking the common language uniquely disturbing. He had not been able to buy anything from the shop, or at least not without much pointing and gesturing, he had not been able to ask for directions, and he had not even been able to say ‘hello’ to anyone, let alone engage in a conversation. It had felt oddly like drowning, hearing all these meaningless sounds crashing in his ears and being expected to make something of them.

Anyway, whatever the cause of his baffling insomnia, it made him look decidedly worse for wear – and neither pallid skin or bags around the eyes suited him. Although perhaps they would make her ladyship stop telling him about all the secret passageways the chateau Blanquefort had, built explicitly for secret lovers to meet.

Jimmy had almost decided to see a doctor about his sleeplessness. The housekeeper, although not directly in charge of him, had more or less ordered him to go, and even the butler had eventually grumbled that it would be no bad thing seeing as having a footman drop dead on the premises would result in no end of paperwork. 

‘P’raps you’ve got one of them nasty wasting diseases,’ Will the hall boy said to him as they were playing cards. ‘Like your innards and stuff are just rotting.’

Jimmy snorted. ‘You really know how to make a chap feel better, don’t you?’

‘Only saying,’ Will said with a shrug. ‘So when are you going, then?

‘To the doctor? Tomorrow afternoon, just after luncheon so I can be back in time for dinner.’

‘Lucky for some, having the afternoon off,’ Will grumbled.

‘Not sure going to the doctor counts as ‘an afternoon off’,’ Jimmy said, putting a card down. He had already won and Will had no clue.  
‘Aye, but you don’t have to hurry back, do you?’ He glanced down at his own cards and his expression brightened noticeably. ‘Drinks tomorrow night after we finish? Lady A’s not entertaining for once, so we can probably get away early.’

‘I doubt Mr Peterson will let me after going to the doctor. I’ll be expected to be in bed with an aspirin and a tonic as soon as possible.’

Will’s face fell. ‘That’s a shame. I don’t like going on my ownsome to pubs.’

‘So don’t go.’

‘But I have to,’ Will said. He had started grinning a little, his cheeks reddening ever so slightly. It was plain that he wanted to be asked why he had to go. Amused, Jimmy indulged him.

‘Oh? So why’s that, then?’

‘Only said I’d meet a girl, didn’t I?’ Will said, lowering his voice and leaning forward on the table. ‘A right lovely bird, too, she is.’

Jimmy grinned back knowingly. ‘Think you’ll get anywhere with her?’

Will wiggled his hand and made a ‘hmm’ noise. ‘Early days yet, man. But I’ve been buying her drinks and I’m going to ask her to the pictures with me next week. I’ll pay and everything.’

‘Well, you’ve got it in the bag,’ Jimmy said, setting his cards down. Will looked dismally shocked at the hand and pushed his money over to Jimmy. They only ever played for a pittance, but the sense of victory was always equally sweet.

‘Have you got any young ladies in mind?’ Will asked Jimmy.

Fleetingly, the memory of the man from the other night flashed in his mind. Thomas Barrow. Not a lady and, in his early thirties, not that young, but he was the one who had made an impression on Jimmy when all the silly, fluttery things from the bar faded the moment they were out of sight. He could hardly blame them; they were silly and fluttery because they were told to be silly and fluttery and laugh at the jokes men told them. All the same, Jimmy was bored with it.

‘No one special,’ Jimmy said, shrugging. Only extraordinary.

They were putting the cards away when there was a scratching at the backdoor.

Long fingernails were being raked along the wood. This time, Jimmy could make out a giggle on the other side.

Jimmy looked frantically over at Will.

‘What’s the matter?’ Will asked, frowning.

There was a very quiet and gentle knock and another giggle.

Will showed no reaction.

He can’t hear it!

‘Can you hear a noise?’ Jimmy asked, forcing his clenched muscles to relax, forcing himself not to scream the question.

‘No.’ Will stopped and listened. ‘No. What did you hear?’

‘Oh, nothing. Just – just the wind howling. I think there’s a storm coming.’

Will shrugged.

‘Come out, pet.’ The voice was a whisper on the wind but it rang loudly in Jimmy’s ear.

Clearly, Jimmy could not go to the doctor now. Whatever was wrong with him was affecting his mind, and there was no way in hell he was being locked in an asylum. You heard stories of those sorts of places, how they wrapped you up so you could not budge and left you in a room all day by yourself. No – better hearing funny voices than that.

‘What are you doing?’ Jimmy asked. He had just noticed that Will was walking towards the door.

Will looked back at Jimmy as though he were mad. Perhaps it was the screech in his voice. ‘Going to smoke? Mrs Powell gave me a good telling off earlier for making the room smell like a bonfire.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘I’ve never had this problem anywhere else!’

Uneven footsteps – as though the person outside was skipping around the yard.

‘Just smoke inside,’ Jimmy said. ‘She’ll not know it’s you.’

‘Ah, but she will, mate. She’s got some witchcraft in her, that one.’

He was still walking towards the door.

Jimmy froze and watched him go as though in a dream.

Nothing’s out there. It’s in your mind, remember!

‘Maybe you should smoke more,’ Will said as he turned the handle. ‘Tobacco warms you up and keeps away colds.’

‘I smoke plenty,’ Jimmy said quietly.

Will opened the door.

There was nothing there. Of course there was nothing there.

Will stepped outside safely enough, his breath turning to fog in the chilly night air.

‘Want one?’ he asked Jimmy as he lit up.

‘No, thanks,’ Jimmy said. ‘I’d better get to bed.’

Will nodded, puffing out a cloud of smoke. He stamped the cold ground to keep him warm. ‘Good thinking. Get some beauty sleep!’

Jimmy rolled his eyes and said goodnight. 

For the first time in a fortnight, Jimmy did not wake up in the night. He never managed to get to sleep in the first place.

The scratching had started at his window.


	4. Chapter 4

When Mary entered the room, Daisy was staring out the window, only just out of reach of the block of sunlight.

‘You’re being careful, aren’t you, darling?’ Mary asked.

Daisy nodded, entranced by the specks of dust floating on the warm air.

‘Good.’ Mary kissed her on the forehead. She was a fickle thing, sometimes adorable and sometimes lethal – but she was family – the blood in her veins was Mary’s, and that could not be forgotten.

‘No harm was done.’

Mary turned to smile at Evelyn, who was leaning against the doorway with one shoulder, utterly relaxed in such a way that was a marked contrast from human behaviour. Whenever Mary spent any length of time with humans, she marvelled at their ability to stand straight and proper, and not touch each other, not ever.

‘Only time can tell that,’ Mary said. ‘She killed in another’s territory – and not discreetly, either. We’re likely to hear something of it.’

‘Well, that’s a bridge we’ll cross when it’s time.’ Evelyn reached up and ran a hand along Mary’s shoulder, his touch as soothing as his voice; she could not help but relax into it. Even after so many decades, his hands were both intoxicating and a gentle balm.

‘Get away from the sunlight,’ he suggested gently. ‘It’s not good.’

Mary could not have agreed more. Even a good six feet away, her skin crawled with revulsion; she wanted to run and hide in a safe, dark place.

‘Come away, darling,’ Mary said, extending her hand to Daisy.

Daisy shook her head dreamily. She reached forward as if to bat at one of the specks of dust.

‘Now,’ Mary said.

A frisson, a shiver, ran through Daisy’s body. Her face darkening, she went to Mary and allowed herself to be led away. There would be tantrums later, of course, but at least she was safe.

‘It’s nearly sunset,’ Evelyn said. ‘You can go outside soon.’

Daisy jerked away from his pat on the arm.

Her mood only worsened in the following hours. Breathing rapid, shallows breaths and clenching her fists until her knuckles looked like bone, she paced the drawing room, pressing into one wall then spinning around and marching towards the other one.

‘You shouldn’t go out tonight,’ Mary told Thomas when he woke up. She was not oblivious to the fact that he was wearing his best suit and favourite cologne. ‘Daisy’s in a bad way. It might take both of us to keep her in check.’

It did not happen often, but when Daisy was angry enough and her tenuous grasp on reality snapped, she could not even be controlled by her creators. At such times, she needed to be physically restrained.

Thomas looked at the floor, his jaw working.

‘Very well.’

In another ten minutes, Daisy was screaming. She flung a priceless vase which missed Thomas’ head by half an inch.

‘You did this to me! It’s your fault I can’t go out in the sun!’

She lunged at him, fangs bared, but Mary grabbed her in time, holding her tight.

‘But in return, you get the night, my darling,’ Mary said softly. ‘He has given you the moon and all the beautiful stars.’

‘And you took him from me!’ Daisy was staring at Thomas with frightening fury.

Daisy almost never mentioned William. Most of the time, Mary did not think she remembered him. These bursts of rage, however, brought clarity and lifted the tightly closed lid on her past life.

Thomas was staring intensely at the ground. It might have been taken for anger but Mary knew it was guilt.

‘Don’t dwell on that now,’ Mary said, still speaking as gently as she could. As Daisy had stopped trying to writhe out of Mary’s grasp, Mary led her carefully towards a chair, sitting her down.

‘There, there, stop all these tears,’ Mary said, crouching down in front of her. ‘Evelyn will be back soon and he’s bringing you something delicious.’

Daisy quietened, sobbing now rather than shrieking; the storm was passing. Mary hugged her close, hands tightening in her hair.

By the time Evelyn returned, Daisy was almost back to normal, sitting on Thomas’ lap and turning over some old jewellery in her hand with magpie-like fascination. Her head snapped up eagerly as soon as she saw the girl in Evelyn’s arms.

Evelyn propped the unconscious body up in the armchair, smiling with pleasure at his own good work. She was young, probably only about sixteen or seventeen, with a glorious stream of copper hair which Daisy was certain to love. How sweet of Evelyn to remember her predilection for redheads! And he had brought her back alive – the air currents of her weak, shallow breaths were tantalising. 

‘For me?’ Daisy asked, eyes bright.

Evelyn nodded. ‘I’d wait for her to wake up first, if I were you.’

Daisy nodded solemnly and folded her hands on her lap, her eyes roving over the details of her present: the lips painted as red as blood, the blush in the cheeks, the long neck exposed as her head fell to one side.

Thomas walked out of the room.

Mary followed him.

‘You could go now if you want,’ she said to his retreating back.

He shook his head, his back cold and forbidding. Mary pressed her hand into it. Relax, relax, relax.

Thomas turned around. ‘It’s late. For them, anyway. The pubs will have closed.’

‘Another night then,’ Mary suggested. ‘I’m sure Mr Blond Footman will be there again.’

‘Jimmy Kent,’ Thomas muttered. ‘He’s called Jimmy Kent.’

‘It doesn’t do to name them, you know. Things get messy if you think of them as people.’

Thomas nodded. He leant against the wall and put his hand at the back of his neck. ‘I think it might get messy if I think of him at all.’

Mary raised an amused eyebrow and touched Thomas’ cheek. ‘It’s refreshing to see you so taken! It’s been a long time – a century since that duke.’

‘Philip,’ Thomas said.

‘Again, it’s better when they don’t have names.’

He glanced at her sullenly.

‘But if you really feel so strongly on the matter, you know what you could do,’ Mary said. The idea was already floating in his head, she could see. She had seen it in the pub – but it was still important that he knew he had her blessing.

Thomas looked back down the corridor, thinking of Daisy.

‘I could do it for you, if you want,’ Mary said.

Thomas nodded, not agreeing but acknowledging the offer. ‘It’s not a gift to be given lightly. How can I know he’s worth it?’

‘You can’t. But you feel he is, and we are driven by instinct, not logic.’

Thomas broke out of his deep thoughts, suddenly lifting his head and frowning.

Mary smelt it too.

Acrid and sharp.

Smoke.

Evelyn ran out into the corridor, dragging Daisy with him. ‘The house is on fire!’

The south-east of England and had been suffering uncharacteristically from a dry spell and the house was going up like a tinderbox.

‘It’s already blocked off the front door,’ Evelyn said quickly, glancing around.

Dark smoke and crackling noises were now coming from behind the kitchen door, as well.

‘Well, let’s not stand here talking out,’ Mary said tersely. ‘We’ll have to get out through one of the upstairs windows.’

They felt their way upstairs, vision obscured by the billows of smoke.

‘It’s times like these that I’m glad I don’t need oxygen,’ Thomas said conversationally.

‘No, but there’s always burning to death, so hurry up,’ Mary said, pushing him forward.

All the windows were blocked by fire.

‘The roof,’ said Mary.

Fortunately, as the roof windows were at a forty-five degree angle, they were not directly facing the fire.

Mary clambered out first, helping Daisy out behind her. ‘Come on, quick, before the fire burns through the wood.’

They were walking along the roof of the neighbouring house when the fire engine drew up outside.

‘Shall we go back and tell them it’s our house,’ Evelyn said once they had reached the end of the row of houses.

‘Are you mad? There’s a dead body in the living room,’ Mary reminded. ‘Besides, we’ve got a far more pressing matter on our hands.’ 

She locked eyes with Thomas and he nodded.

‘Find shelter before dawn,’ Thomas said. ‘And there’s also the trivial matter of someone trying to murder us to sort out.’

‘That wasn’t a murder attempt. If they wanted us to be dead, we’d be dead. That was a warning,’ Mary said.

She looked at Daisy, who had sat down on the ridge of the roof, humming.


	5. Chapter 5

‘Jimmy, didn’t you hear me? I asked you what the doctor said!’

Jimmy apologised quickly, his eyes on the ground. ‘He said I’ve just picked up a bug, milady. He gave me some medicine and said I should be right as rain in no time.’

‘Good,’ her ladyship said. Jimmy glanced up briefly. Her expression made him uncomfortable. No – ‘uncomfortable’ was a word for lumpy chairs and too-small shoes; her expression disturbed him. It had been fun, of course, at first, but now that the illicit excitement of their affair was wearing thin, he was becoming increasingly aware that he was her pet, and that grated. Even little things like this, the fact that he was expected to stand and talk to her after bringing her the usual glass of evening sherry, was becoming wearisome.

‘I’ll talk to Peterson about giving you a day or two off to recover. If one doesn’t rest when one’s poorly, little ailments can get out of hand.’

‘That’s very kind of you, milady,’ Jimmy said.

‘Nonsense,’ her ladyship said, smiling indulgently. ‘It’s the very least I can do.’ Lowering her chin and looking up at Jimmy through her eyelashes with what she must have presumed was a coy, seductive expression, she said: ‘Oh, dear, I hope I’m not the one who has been wearing you out.’

She had said it quietly but she might as well have shouted it. Jimmy’s heart hammered. What if one of the other servants had been walking by outside and overheard?

‘No – no, my lady. It’s not – it isn’t – no,’ Jimmy said. He wished she would stop nursing the drink and just give him the empty glass so he could leave.

‘Perhaps I’ll have to try harder.’

Their conversation, if you could call a one-sided attempt to be sensual such a thing, was cut short by Mr Peterson approaching. Thankfully, his heavy footsteps could be heard clumping from the other side of the hall, giving her ladyship time to stop being so suggestive.

‘Ah, Peterson, I was hoping for a word with you this evening,’ she said brightly before he had a chance to speak. ‘As you’re well aware, poor Jimmy is awfully under the weather and I think it’s only right that you give him a day off to recover.’

Peterson was not wet behind the ears but he feigned ignorance of the affair when in the presence of her ladyship, only casting the occasional glare at Jimmy when there was nobody else around.

‘Ah, well there may be a problem with that, milady,’ Peterson said, his face the picture of contrition. ‘In fact, I was just coming to talk to you about it. I wanted your permission to advertise for a new hall boy. Young William Tanner has up and left.’

Her ladyship sighed dramatically. ‘How awfully selfish of him! Of course you must advertise the vacancy.’

‘Thank you, milady. And, as I’m sure you see, as we are now understaffed, it would be very difficult for us to manage without Jimmy either,’ Peterson said.

‘Hm. Well, yes, I do see. That’s a pity,’ her ladyship said. She finally finished her drink and let Jimmy take it away. He nodded a bow before following Mr Peterson out.

‘Mr Peterson!’ Jimmy called, hurrying to keep up with the butler. ‘When did Will leave?’

Mr Peterson regarded Jimmy somewhat disdainfully. ‘Do you expect me to believe he never mentioned anything to you? You’ve always been as thick as thieves.’ His voice was thick with sarcasm.

‘I didn’t know a thing,’ Jimmy said quickly. ‘I promise.’

‘If you say so. Not that it’s any of your business, but William must have left in the middle of the night. Donald claimed his bed was empty when he did the morning rounds. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more important things to be doing than quelling the curiosities of every member of staff.

Jimmy’s stomach lurched. He had been so caught up with his own concerns that he had not even noticed Will’s absence that day. What sort of friend was he?

Jimmy knew he was skating on thin ice, but he did not let the matter drop with Mr Peterson. In the servants’ hall, he brought it up again.

‘You’re sure that he just decided to leave? Because he seemed very happy here,’ Jimmy pressed.

He thought Mr Peterson was about to shout at him, but Donald chimed in. ‘I tried to tell you earlier, Mr Peterson, but you were busy: Will’s things are all still in his room.’

Mr Peterson frowned. ‘That is odd.’

‘Maybe he’s planning on returning for them,’ Mrs Powell suggested. ‘Either way, I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.’

As soon as the senior staff had left the room, the younger servants latched onto this new piece of gossip.

‘Well, I ain’t surprised,’ one of the maids was saying while the hall boy opposite her nodded wisely.

Jimmy needed to be on his own. And at the same time he was terrified of it. Thomas had been right. There was something out there in the darkness, lurking, hunting in the shadows.

And whatever it was had to be after him. There was no other explanation.

Guilt hit Jimmy like a wave of nausea. 

I should have trusted my instincts, I should have grabbed Will away from the door, I should have done something.

Everyone was starting to go to bed. Jimmy stood up hurriedly; he would not risk being alone again down here for all the tea in china.

On the other hand…

Jimmy stopped walking. The other footman walked straight into the back of him and told him angrily to be more careful. Jimmy barely heard it.

This problem was not going to go away – and Jimmy did not know how much longer he could put up with this constant tiredness.

Are you a man or a mouse?

As soon as everyone else was in bed, Jimmy crept back downstairs and sat on the lowest step, staring directly at the back door.

Within minutes, the scratching started.

‘What do you want?’ Jimmy asked. He sounded more frightened that he would have liked.

‘To play with you.’

It was a quiet, giggly whisper.

‘Come closer to the door. I want to smell you.’

Jimmy dug his nails into the step, pinning himself down.

‘What are you?’ Jimmy asked. 

‘Your new friend. My brother is so awfully fond of you so I wanted to take a closer look. I was sitting and watching and he didn’t even know it. The way he looked at you, pet!’

‘Your brother? How many of you are there?’

It was like finding out that the monsters under your bed were not only real but travelled in packs.

‘How many, how many? We are as many as we need to be. Where there are people, that’s where you’ll find us.’ It sighed deeply. ‘Ah, I can smell you a little bit. I smell the stir of blood. I bet you’ll taste of fear.’

‘What in God’s name are you?’ Jimmy hissed.

‘God never named us. My brother – or father would be closer to the truth, but we call each other brother and sister – my brother wants you all to himself. Ah, but that stirs such memories in me.’

The creature was talking in riddles, nonsense. A burst of anger fired through Jimmy, battling with his fear.

‘Leave me alone,’ he said.

‘So rude!’ A laugh – and the laugh was so insane, so devoid of any humanity it drained any courage Jimmy had. ‘Such a naughty boy. You’ve been up to all sort of mischief, haven’t you? Did you enjoy spreading those old legs and lapping at the mistress like a good little puppy? Did she give you a biscuit for it?’

The laugh, the scratches on the door, raked over Jimmy.

‘Will you miss him?’

He was shaking so badly with fear that the world seemed a little distant, a little black around the edges.

‘Poor Will! I had a William once – it is terribly sad when the things we love have to go away. But see, I was so desperately thirsty.’

The darkness, the blood pounding in Jimmy’s skull, won out and he lost consciousness, slumping against the wall.


	6. Chapter 6

The little blond one was no longer talking to Daisy. She huffed impatiently and pressed her ear against the door; she could only hear faintest whisper of breath at the other end.

Daisy turned around and leant against the door. ‘It’s no fun when they faint.’

She sat down on the floor, drumming her fingernails on the cold stone.

‘Talk to me,’ she urged.

The little blond one stayed quiet.

Daisy hated silence.

‘You don’t belong here.’

Daisy looked up hopefully at the new voice. Had someone come to play with her? That would be nice. She liked Thomas and Mary and Evelyn very much but there were only so many centuries you could put up with the same people for.

This new person was a woman with terrible hair and cruelty glinting in her eyes. She was dressed entirely in plain black, smoking and frowning.

‘Tisn’t your territory,’ the woman said, drawing her lips back to reveal her fangs.

Something pricked uneasily at Daisy – some part of her brain was telling her that there was danger here, that she should flee as fast as she could. A bigger part of her brain however was telling her that the little blond one was stirring inside, that he was breathing more deeply, his blood rushing as his muscles moved.

Daisy glanced quickly from between the door and this new person who was stalking slowly towards her, mouth a cavern by now.

‘Pet?’Daisy called. ‘Won’t you let me in?’

She wondered whether this woman would rip her entirely to shreds. Quite possibly. She had seen vampires destroy each other for less, carving off ribbons of flesh until the ground was slick and reddish-black.

Would Thomas and Mary know what had happened to her? Mary had lost a brother of her blood once and she had known instantly, the pain rocketing through her heart as her own blood ran dry in his veins. 

‘Only, the problem is, is that everything from Glenridge Church to Heyes Chapel belongs to me and mine,’ the woman was saying. Her voice was low and would have seemed almost sweet but for the murder in her eyes.

‘Don’t hurt me!’ Daisy asked. ‘Please don’t hurt me!’

‘Oh, it’s a little late for that.’

Daisy managed to dodge the first blow, the woman’s hand splintering the door, and the second only scratched her, but then she was caught by the back of her hair, an excruciating pain welling at her eyes as she was dragged backwards.

And then there was the biting. The endlessness of the biting.

She curled against the door, trying to make herself tiny, trying not to dimly wonder where she would go when her candle flickered out and whether William would be there, William who had only ever been good to her and had never deserved to die this sort of death.

The door opened.

The little blond one stood there, face white with terror.

‘Come in,’ he said to Daisy.

It was all the invitation she needed.

Although the little blond one insisted on locking and bolting the door, Daisy knew that was not necessary. The other one was not welcome.

Daisy was being led into the kitchen, sat on a chair, a warm blanket wrapped around her shoulders, tea or milk or something stronger being offered in abundance.

She shook her head.

The little blond one, whom Daisy had to admit was terribly pretty close up and smelled delightful, bit his lip and crouched down to Daisy’s level.

‘You saw what that creature out there was?’

Daisy nodded.

‘So it’s not just me, then. I’m not barking,’ the little blond one said with a shaky laugh. ‘I suppose it chased you into the yard? That foul thing has been watching me for weeks. It killed my best friend. But what could I tell people? Now we can tell them together!’

He thinks I am the one out there! He thinks that me in here, this delicate little body with big soulful eyes, is someone else, some lost little doll that has wandered in.

Daisy, not usually very logical, could at least see that clearing matters up was not in her interest at the moment. He might not be able to throw her out by himself, but many people lived in this house and if he woke all of them, they might manage it. Better to wait until the coast was clear.

That woman was still out there, hissing angrily and smelling of wrath.

‘She was trying to hurt me,’ Daisy said. This was not a lie so Daisy could say it freely. She did not like lying.

The little blond one put a hand on her shoulder, the warmth of it radiating through the blanket. Although the urge to bite into him was very strong, Daisy reasoned that it would be a poor way to return his kindness. Rather than a quick and violent death, the little blond one deserved a gift.


End file.
